


Another Point of View

by greenotter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Out of Body Experiences, Potions Accident, Technically lol, body switching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2020-06-03 21:26:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19472530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenotter/pseuds/greenotter
Summary: Another typical potions accident between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.The switching of bodies between two polar opposites create learning experiences for the both of them, learning about each others' lives as well as how to fix this mistake without causing too much mayhem along the way.This is a repost because, I wrote it a couple years ago and deleted it and so now it is back again because I saved it in a Google doc, so yeah. Maybe I will continue it, and others? ???





	1. Chapter 1

The most important thing to remember when making this potion, Harry recalled, was to not mix any tools or ingredients with another person’s potion. He had sectioned off his own side of the table, separate from where Ron was likewise struggling with his own potion. Hermione was sat behind them next to Neville, mumbling tips to all three. Harry felt guilty that she had always had to help them out, but she seemed pleased enough to feel like the smartest out of them all.

“Once your potion has ceased bubbling, take exactly three strands of your hair and dissolve them into your potion.” drawled Professor Snape from right behind Harry, causing him to jump and almost knock over the jar of fluxweed. “Try your best to resist the urge to stir in the hair... Let it sit on its own or the ingredients will become imbalanced and you may have either two or zero brains in a body...” A phrase that caused snickers around the room. Snape seemed pleased and strolled along to watch some of his more favorite students.

“Oh, Ron, you didn’t crush the lacewing flies, did you?” she peered over, stirring the potion. The face Ron gave implied the answer was no. Surely, Harry wouldn’t have to drink that... Who knows what could happen to him? “Here, just pour that out and take half of mine. We don’t really have time to start from scratch and Snape isn’t the best at realizing when Harry could be in danger rather than one of his Slytherins,” she muttered. Harry smiled and silently thanked her.

“Thanks ‘mione. I’m pretty sure Harry and I would be hospitalized every week if we didn’t have you,” Ron grinned. She stifled a laugh, and poured some of her potion into his cauldron. Harry watched their robes shuffle together but got distracted before he could form an idea from it. He watched his previously plucked hairs slowly sink into the potion until they were invisible to the eye, and waited for the smell to dissipate. Once it was done, he looked over to see Ron sniffing his own potion, and then looking to Harry with a thumbs up.

Each holding mini glasses of their own potions, they swapped and waited for Professor Snape to approve of their work. After inspecting and smelling both of the potions, he sneered at them but allowed them to drink. “You’ll feel a tense headache seconds after drinking the potion, enough to force your eyes shut. You’ll want to be sitting, Potter, Weasley, and once your headache stops, the potion should have done the trick.” When Ron spoke from Harry’s body, cursing and leaning in to inspect his face sitting across from him, there were laughs throughout the room of those watching. Harry was struck wordless, thinking he looked so different than he’d seen in mirrors. He also couldn’t help but notice his hair looked nicer today.

Slowly, others were approved to drink their own potions, and chatter occurred throughout the room. Harry glanced over to the other side where Draco was sitting poise as ever, but differently. He realized that he and Blaise Zabini had switched their bodies and refused to be seen amazed. Blaise, or Draco in this case, did seem to be looking Draco, or Blaise, up and down. However.

“About ten minutes after switching bodies, you’ll feel the same headache recur. Then you’ll know you’re switching back. It’s important to remember as always to try not to recreate potions outside of this specific classroom, as these are very dangerous. You’re lucky you get to try the potions, let alone make them, so don’t mess it up for everybody else if you get caught,” Snape drawled. Perfectly on time, Harry began to feel a tense headache, and sat down waiting for him to return to his own body. After a few short seconds, his muscles relaxed and he was back to normal, as was Ron.

“That was wicked,” Ron said with a wide grin. Harry agreed with a smile of his own, and then went to gather his ingredients to put away. Everything this class was going perfectly, even Snape seemed to be in a good mood. Which is why Harry pretty much expected what came next.

He ran straight into Draco. Or Draco ran straight into him. Or it was a mutual effort. Either way, things went stumbling. Draco was obviously not happy. He guffawed and then, clenching his jaw, sneered, “Watch where you’re going, Potter. Or I’ll gladly watch for you and make sure you never run into me again. You’re lucky I am letting you off the hook this time.” Harry didn’t say anything, trying not to let the situation escalate, although he himself was feeling his own anger escalate. His robes and part of his face felt wet, when he realized Draco’s potion had been spilled on him. At the same time he realized this, he heard Draco whine again.

“Ugh, you got something wet on me. Disgusting, Potter. Can’t keep in your own drool?” He snickered, and then walked away, leaving Harry to pick everything up. Snape watched the whole thing from afar, not bothering to interfere, as always.

Once class had ended, Ron snickered at Harry as well. “Did you wet yourself, mate?” Harry rolled his eyes.

“Of course, Ron. If I wet myself, you don’t talk about your crush in your sleep,” he retaliated. Ron shoved his shoulder, Harry shoved back, and Hermione had to walk between them, just like every day. “Since you didn’t notice, Malfoy bumped into me when I was putting the ingredients away. We both got potions spilled on us. He was a lot more disgusted than he should have been, anyway.”

Hermione gave a concerned look, “Did you get any on your skin or in your mouth?” Harry wasn’t quite sure how the potion could work if it just touched his skin, and he didn’t want to find out.

“Uh, only a little bit got on my skin, but I wiped it off...” he replied. Hermione’s concerned look went tenfold. “It’s fine, I’ll tell you if I start feeling weird. But classes for the day are over now, let’s go outside and enjoy the sun.” Ron and Hermione both agreed, and decided to head just outside to the courtyard, where Hermione brought her homework and Harry decided to teach Ron about football.

Time passed quickly, and one of the calmer days in Harry’s life, those he was very thankful for, was almost over. After dinner, the three headed up to the common room to say goodnight and finish up any last homework as well as chat with other Gryffindors in the room. When Harry climbed into bed, he felt content. The day had gone well, and he felt good about tomorrow, too. He spent the night watching the moon rise through the trees of the Forbidden Forest before his eyes closed and he fell asleep. Right before he fell asleep, however, Harry felt a familiar tense headache that lasted for only a short amount of time. Not long enough to open his eyes and understand why the air felt slightly cooler right before he fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry’s dreams usually were dark or empty, ever since he could remember. The cold and cramped space of the cupboard under the stairs where he’s lived practically forever never had enough room for any happiness. The dim and blank space he spent most of his time in represented how he felt inside for many of his young years. Hogwarts brought so much life and energy to him that soon his dreams were filled with magic, quite literally. His first year at the school made even sleep exciting, and when he realized he had to go back to his aunt and uncle’s house, he couldn’t even be sad, but instead felt excitement to return to Hogwarts. It was such a drastic change always feeling positivity.

But tonight Harry dreamt of a large home, where surely the wealthy lived. But it was so dim and sad, that Harry didn’t want to enter. Somehow the place felt so familiar to him, as soon as he entered, he turned and went upstairs as if he knew exactly where he was going. He ended up in a bare bedroom, larger than Harry was used to, quite obviously. There was a big bed and it seemed void of life. Most likely a guest bedroom, he supposed. Until he saw in a corner a wide desk. Inspecting the drawers, he realized this was the bedroom of a teenager around his age. There were open letters and potion ingredients and other kinds of clutter scattered around. Harry hadn’t quite put the pieces together until he read one of the fancy envelopes, which was addressed to the Malfoy Manor. This was Draco Malfoy’s bedroom. Where he spent his Christmases and his summers and where he grew up. This is where Lucius Malfoy lived, and Malfoy’s mother. Harry couldn’t help but wonder why this room was so lifeless, so void of, well, Draco. At the Weasley house, you could pretty much tell who slept in what bedroom. Each bed was different, and so was each wall. Every room had a personality in that house, and was also full of life, just like Hogwarts. But the Malfoy Manor felt so pristine that even the air was stale. Harry felt uncomfortable, and he suddenly awoke from his dream.

Instantly, he felt cold. It was dark, and he couldn’t see anything, which meant this was not where Harry fell asleep. Every night, the moon shone through the windows next to the beds in the Gryffindor rooms and there was always moonshine no matter what time of night it was. And it was always warm in there, a reason why everyone wore sleeveless shirts to bed. This was not where Harry belonged, but he wasn’t sure where he was. He heard light snoring and heavy breathing around him, though, which meant there were people sleeping around him. Squinting to try to see, wishing he had his glasses, Harry nearly jumped out of his skin at a sudden raspy voice nearby him.

“Did you have another nightmare, Draco?” Harry absolutely wanted to just get up and somehow get away from here. How was Malfoy here? And who asked that? His best guess was Blaise, and also his only guess. Harry’s drowsiness caused his brain to melt and become unable to brainstorm at all. So Harry kept quiet. “I’ll take that as a yes...Do you want to go hang out down in the common room for a bit?” Harry still didn’t reply, but jumped when a hand slapped his leg twice. “Come on, it’s okay,” and then he heard shuffling and someone pushing his back, encouraging him to get up.

It was at this point that Harry pretty much just stayed silent out of confusion and shock. Clearly he had somehow apparated into the Slytherin dorms and whoever this guy is thinks he’s Malfoy... Harry guessed. He was in for a real shock when he got Harry into the light. Harry guessed he would be hexed at least a few times, and then sent out into the hallways to be bothered by ghosts or Prefects while he finds his way back to the Gryffindor dorms. He was led down into the Slytherin common room, when he realized he’d always wondered what it looks like exactly. He’d imagined a scary dungeon void of all happiness. In fact, it was kind of like a dungeon, only because of the walls. Instead of torture devices, there were large couches surrounding the biggest fireplace ever. It looked like a mixture of elegant and evil. Harry knew he was probably overreacting. He had to remind himself not all Slytherins are evil and not all evil wizards and witches are Slytherins.  
Now finding out that man was in fact Blaise, Harry watched as he lit the fireplace and prepared himself for hexes and punches. But they didn’t come. Blaise turned back around, tossed his wand aside, and smiled at Harry. “Um, I know you don’t ever like talking about it, do you want to take your mind off of it maybe?” he asked Harry, tilting his head. Harry was confused about all this concern for someone who didn’t really take a liking to him.

The most Harry could respond with was, “Uh...” To which Blaise chuckled and sat down on one of the couches.

“Do you remember the commotion tonight at dinner? With those Ravenclaw girls asking us to play that weird game they heard of with the questions?” Blaise asked. Harry didn’t really know what to do at this point, and he was too scared to come up with the strange conclusion that he must look like Malfoy right now. “And that shorter one asked if you were gay? I think they only played that whole game to ask that one question. It’s kind of ridiculous that they’re coming up with that theory. Ravenclaws are too smart for their own good, they start thinking up ridiculous things that aren’t true, and then they can’t be convinced otherwise,” he shakes his head as he says this. Harry decides he’s just gonna listen to whatever Blaise is saying until he’s satisfied, then they’re gonna go to bed, and then he’s gonna sneak out and go back to the common room, somehow get Hermione from the girl’s dorm, and ask her what the hell is going on. “Was the nightmare really that bad? You still haven’t talked and you look a little freaked out,” Blaise asks Harry, looking and sounding concerned. Harry realized he’s going to have to act a little bit to get out of this one.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” Harry mutters. He then also realized he has no idea how Malfoy talks when he’s not spitting at Harry or shouting at other students. “Just tired, you know,” he trails off.

“Alright. We can head back to bed if you like. I’ll stay up with you till you’re asleep, yeah?” Inside of Harry’s mind, he was cursing. But on the outside, he just nodded and stood up with Blaise. He let Harry lead, which wasn’t a good idea because he couldn’t remember which way they came from, but eventually they ended up back in bed. Now that Harry knew the situation he was in, he didn’t think there was a way to go back to sleep, so he tried to decide if Malfoy snored or not, and if he tossed and turned in his sleep. He settled for turning his back from Blaise and just breathing deeply until he was satisfied and went to sleep.

After a while, it was dead silent again save for the few distant snoring. Harry turned to his other side and realized if he couldn’t get to the Gryffindor common room before being sent back here, he couldn’t get back in. He didn’t know how to get into the common room, nor did he even know where exactly it was in the castle. He doesn’t come here very often, so navigating in the dark and with the way the castle likes to move around, there’s no way he’d find his way back. He decided that in the few hours it took for morning to come and breakfast to start, he’d think of a way to find Ron and Hermione and somehow convince them to talk in private and that he was actually Harry. Which made him wonder, is there gonna be a Harry tomorrow at breakfast? And if so, is it gonna be Malfoy in that body confused and lost just like he is?

Once others around him woke up and began their morning routine, Harry also “woke up,” sitting in bed and realizing he didn’t know exactly what the morning routine would be like. How does Malfoy get ready? How long does he spend in the mirror perfecting his hair and robes? Will he be suspicious if he does something out of the norm? Harry settled to pretend he was too tired to get up until most of the Slytherins had left, and then attempt to style hair. Midway through, Harry realized he literally did not know why he was bothering with this when his mission was to go straight to Ron and Hermione and ask them for help. Surely then he wouldn’t need to be hiding this from anyone. The professors would help him out of this mess. Right?

Harry left the Slytherin dorms with Blaise, looking not at all how Malfoy should look. Blaise was obviously concerned. “Are you sure you want to leave looking like that? I know how much you protect your image and everything...” Harry just shrugged.

“I don’t feel well. I’ll just eat and head back,” he excused. Blaise sighed but didn’t reply. Harry was led to the Slytherin table, but as he eyed Ron and Hermione across the room, he saw himself sitting there, sipping pumpkin juice. He was dumbfounded, and made eye contact with himself. The other Harry widened his eyes and spat out the juice. Harry himself was shocked, too. As he was being lured along by Blaise, the other Harry rushed over to him, grabbed Harry’s arm, and was yanked out of the room. The last thing Harry saw before the doors closed was Blaise standing there looking shocked and Ron and Hermione looking shocked as well.  
“Potter?!” The grip on Harry’s arm was getting tighter, and the other Harry looked frazzled.

“You’re Malfoy,” he stated. “How did this happen?” he asked. Malfoy just shook his head, looking furious.

“Your clumsy ass spilled our potions yesterday, remember? None of this would have happened if you weren’t so blind even with your thick, stupid glasses. How do you even keep these things clean?” Malfoy began to ramble, and Harry wasn’t quite sure what to do. This was the longest they’ve spoken without throwing a punch or two or maybe a spell.

“We have to tell someone,” Harry said, which was apparently a bad idea because Malfoy gave him the craziest look ever. To which Harry remembered how weird it was that he was talking to...himself?

“Are you absolutely batshit insane? First of all, I can’t believe you hate me so much that you actually let anybody see you with my hair looking like that. And secondly, if we tell anybody, it’s going to be extremely humiliating and they’re probably going to send a letter to my parents. If my father finds out I’m in any way associated with the Chosen One,” he mocked, “that isn’t making sure you know you’re nothing special, I’ll never hear the end of it.” Reminded of Malfoy’s father, Harry thought back to the dream of the Manor.

“What did you dream about last night?” he asked. Malfoy glared at him.

“What? How is that even relevant right now?” He sneered. It looked strange on Harry’s face.

“I dreamt about your home. I’ve never even seen it before, but I remember being in your bedroom, and reading one of the letters in your desk,” Harry said. Malfoy looked enraged.

“You read my personal letters?!” Harry had to back away in fear of being punched by himself.

“No! Just the envelope, because I wasn’t sure where I was,” he trailed off.

“I dreamt about such a small, tight space, that I began to feel claustrophobic. It was dusty and horrible in there,” Malfoy said. Harry saw the realization in his eyes soon after. “Is there where your home is?”

“It was, before I came to Hogwarts.” Malfoy looked away, unsure of what to say next. “If we can’t tell anyone, how do you suggest we fix this exactly, Malfoy?”

“Well, eventually I’m going to get back into my body, and I can’t have people coming up to me and asking why I looked like I’d been fucked, so we’re going back to my dorm to fix myself up.” Leaving Harry with no choice but to follow, they headed down the hallway to the Slytherin common room. When they stopped in front of a seemingly bare wall, Malfoy turned around and tried to shoo Harry away.

“Malfoy if we don’t get this fixed by tonight, I’m going to have to come back here, you know.” Malfoy glared at him with pursed lips and didn’t say anything, but instead turned around to repeat the password,

“Eye of newt,” he stated, and a passage to the common room appeared before their eyes. Malfoy eyed him, and said, “we recently had to change it. Some Slytherin girl thought it would be a good idea to invite a Hufflepuff boy in, and she let slip the password. Had some unwanted guests...Anyway,” he led Harry upstairs to one of the bathrooms. “Just sit here and I’ll do it myself, no point in teaching you.”

“Unless you’re going to give me a makeover every morning,” Harry stated. Malfoy glared at him as he parted Harry’s...his...hair.

“You act like we’re going to be like this for a long time. I’m going to do some research and see why we haven’t changed back. If you want to join me in the library maybe you can be of some use if you ever want to talk to your friends again, because I’m not going to be seen associating with a mudblood and a blood traitor,” he snapped. This time it was Harry’s turn to glare.

“I think I’ll just leave now and go hang out with my actual friends and maybe flirt with a few Hufflepuffs,” Harry stated, standing up and making a fake attempt to leave. Instead of Malfoy telling him to wait like he expected, he was yanked back into his seating position where his hair continued to be styled.

“I can’t believe I’m still stronger than you and I’m literally in your body,” Malfoy snickered. “I suppose you’re taller than me now, at least.” Harry kept his mouth shut, and became very aware of how much he was breathing, with Malfoy so close to him prodding at his scalp. “You’re going to be absent in all of your classes today, by the way.”

“What? Why?” Harry pulled back to look Malfoy in the eye.

“I’m going to be spending the day researching our, um, condition. And I can’t be bothered to remember your classes nor take notes for you.”

“Well, I’m not going to any of your classes, then,” Harry replied stubbornly.

“I’m top in almost all of my classes, Potter. I think I’ve got it handled. But what are you going to do all day, then, hm?” Malfoy leaned back to admire his hair and decided he was done. He began to look into the mirror and style the hair on his own head when he stopped and realized exactly what he was doing.

“I don’t know. I suppose I’ll practice flying or something. And if you really want to tackle styling my hair, you’re going to need some form of magic. It’s really not possible.” Malfoy rolled his eyes and began to leave the bathroom.

“How about, Potter, you help me find out how to switch back to our own bodies instead of being lazy in my body all day?” Malfoy sneered. Harry looked down at him, something he was definitely not used to, and rolled his eyes back.

“Yeah, okay, Malfoy and Potter together in the library not trying to choke each other to death. Not suspicious at all.”

“Everyone is going to be in classes. Plus, we’re going to be in the back. Can’t have anybody finding out exactly what we’re researching, nimwit.” And with that, Malfoy straightened his Gryffindor tie and began striding out towards the exit. Harry really had no choice but to follow him.

Malfoy was right. There was nobody in the library, except of course Madam Pince. They received a weird stare from her, but no remarks. Malfoy led Harry to the back of the library, where he began browsing the potions section. Harry awkwardly followed behind for a while until Malfoy got annoyed.

“You know I brought you here to be twice as productive. If you’re just going to follow me like a lost puppy then I’ll gladly be alone here,” Malfoy stated. Harry began looking through the aisle across. Except he didn’t know exactly what they were looking for.

“Uh, anything specific I should search for?” Harry asked.

“Potions relating to transformation or body switching. It’ll be an amateur potions book, considering we made it as students in a wizarding school,” Malfoy explained. Harry thought that was one of few times Malfoy didn’t sound like he wanted to punch Harry in the jaw.

Most of the books Harry found weren’t related to effects or the making of potions. Somehow the only ones he seemed to pull out talked about potions professors, makers, or masters. Meanwhile, Malfoy was handling two armfuls of books that he’d scattered around a desk he’d claimed. Harry sat down with him, picked up the least intimidating book he saw, and began flipping through the pages. Within seconds he’d reached the end, and had clearly retained nothing. Malfoy gave him an unimpressed look.

“I’m not done, just giving it a once over,” Harry explained before he opened the book back up and began intently reading the publication date. He saw Malfoy roll his eyes and manage a small smile.

“Well, if you’re not much of a reader, then I don’t see how else you can help.”

“You know, Hermione would know what to do,” Harry mentioned. Malfoy sighed and slightly shook his head.

“Of course she would, Potter.” Harry wasn’t quite sure what he’d said to annoy Malfoy.

“Do you think there’s an antidote? I mean since this is the kind of potion that is supposed to wear off, maybe nobody bothered to make one...” That made Malfoy shut his book and rub his temples.

“Look, I don’t know any more than you do. Snape probably knows. I should go ask him,” Malfoy said to himself.

“Good luck getting anything out of him when he thinks you’re me,” Harry chimed in. “We both know how much he hates me.”

“You’re right. Then you’ll have to do it.” Harry stared blankly at Malfoy.

“What?”

“You ask Snape. He’ll think you’re me, so he’ll help.” Harry continued staring.

“Sure, next I’ll tell my aunt and uncle how much I appreciate them for everything they’ve done for me. And then after that, I’ll plan a lunch with Voldemort,” said Harry. Malfoy had apparently had enough.

“Okay Potter,” he spat. “You want to be stuck in my body forever? Be my guest. Have fun with my father and try not to ruin my life, please.” He stood up to leave when Harry scoffed.

“Malfoy, come on. You know you hate this situation even more than I do. There’s no way you’d stay sane living at my home, nor would you ever be comfortable enough to stay any longer in Gryffindor robes.” Harry waited for Malfoy’s response, which took a lot longer than he’d expected.

“Potter, I just don’t know how to handle this, alright? This is entirely your fault, we spilled our potions on each other, but we didn’t even drink them. It just made skin contact. Maybe that’s why it hasn’t worn off, because it’s absorbed into us? Rather than going through our stomachs...” Malfoy brainstormed. “I don’t know anymore.”

“No, that sounds right. But then we still don’t know how long this will take. Or if that’s even true, is there an antidote? Maybe we just take the potions again...” Harry said. Malfoy opened another book and began sifting through the pages.

“Look, Potter. You’re really the last person I want to spend my day with, and that’s because you stress me the hell out. Especially right now.” Harry was taken aback.

“What? How do I stress you out? I’m trying to find out how to fix this, just like you. And where did that even come from?”

“Aren’t you scared we’re going to be stuck like this forever?” Malfoy was definitely stressing out.

“If we get to the point where we actually believe that, I’m breaking down your pride and going to the hospital wing. They’ll know what to do, and they already do know what to do. So we just probably just head over there,” said Harry. He was trying his best to lure Malfoy away from the research and towards actual help without making him too pissy.

“If I have to use Brachiabindo on you to get you to sit in your god damn chair, I will,” hissed Malfoy. Harry stayed quiet. He had no doubt that Malfoy would do that.

“Would you have to use my wand for that?” he wondered aloud. Malfoy let his head fall onto the book he was skimming, and groaned into the pages. “Just wondering...”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who's back...  
> back again...

Malfoy told Harry to wait ten minutes after he left, so the two wouldn’t be seen together once everyone was out of classes. They had spent hours in the library, tossing aside books, flipping through pages, and rifling through bookcases. Malfoy got somewhere, but nowhere close to what they needed, which was a cure. And an understanding of why the potion hadn’t worn off. Harry had guessed something screwed up because the potion was intended for consumption, and instead was activated through skin contact. Malfoy agreed.

So now, Harry was walking down a random corridor, not quite interested in joining the Slytherins for lunch. He figured he’d head down to the kitchens later and ask the house elves for leftover food. Or he did figure that, until he heard the familiar screech of Pansy Parkinson behind him.

“Draco, there you are!” she shouted. Harry reluctantly turned around, after hearing the girl running towards him. “Where have you been, hon?” She ran up to him, and linked her arm in his. He was then pulled along as she strode down the corridor.

“Just wandering. I’m not feeling well today, Pansy,” he muttered. She stopped walking and look at him, her head tilted like a puppy. She had a concerned look written on her face, and before Harry knew it, her hand was warm and soft against his forehead. He froze.

“You do feel a little warmer than usual. But you should get some food in you. You’re skinnier than me!” Pansy grabbed his hand and locked her fingers with his, pulling him along. Holding hands felt very weird to Harry, but he didn’t know whether or not he should pull away. What does Malfoy usually do?

The Great Hall felt familiar and bright as they walked in, and calmed Harry’s nerves the slightest. His eyes automatically shifted to the Gryffindor table, where he saw Malfoy sitting awkwardly next to Ron and across from Hermione. Everyone was chattering around him, save for himself and Ron, who was stuffing his face full of steaming potatoes. Harry reluctantly made his way to the Slytherin table, sitting down with Pansy to his left and Blaise to his right.

“Hey mate, I filled your plate for you,” said Blaise, and a half full plate of food was pushed toward him. Harry grabbed a fork and flattened his peas, while sniffing the liquid in his goblet.

“Drake’s not feeling well, today,” Pansy whimpered in a sympathetic tone. Her hand rubbed his shoulder as she took a small bite of peas. Her face scrunched up. “Ugh, the house elves could do much better than this,” she chirped. Blaise laughed, and Harry set down his fork.

“They could be doing their best,” he muttered, then regretted it. That is definitely not something Draco Malfoy would say. The surrounding Slytherins who heard him stared.

“Well, you might be right Draco,” supported Blaise. Harry wasn’t sure if he was serious, but the conversation moved swiftly on before he could figure it out. After a few mouthfuls, dinner was over, and students began shuffling back to their dorms. The chatter in the Great Hall was slowly sinking into a mumble, then a whisper, then silence. Harry didn’t get a chance to speak to Malfoy before he was brought back to the Slytherin dorms, where he sat in a couch trying to warm up by the fireplace. Pansy had gone to her bed already, and Blaise was just about ready to head to his own.

“You coming, Draco?” he asked. Harry shook his head.

“Not quite tired yet, and I’ve got homework to do.” Blaise shrugged, patted his shoulder, and left the common room. Save for a few other Slytherins, Harry was alone in his thoughts, staring blankly into the crackling fire. His fingers massaged the green tie he wore, and his feet shuffled towards the fire, warming up. He wondered how long this would last, how long it would be before he could wrestle with Ron, do homework with Hermione, fly his broom, use his own wand. Malfoy’s wand knew exactly who held it, no matter the face, and did not like him one bit. He thought if he would have to go to Malfoy’s home and pretend to be Draco Malfoy. Would his parents know? Would he get caught? How would Malfoy deal with his uncle, or his cousin? He hoped Malfoy wouldn’t kill them before the two got back to Hogwarts.

“Potter!” a shrill whisper came from the entrance of the common room. Harry was pulled away from the fire and his thoughts, to investigate. It was Malfoy, obviously. Who else would ask for Potter in the Slytherin dorms? Malfoy pulled on his robes and out into the corridor they went.

“What is it, Malfoy? I was about to head to bed,” Harry slurred, realizing just how tired he really was.

“Give me my wand, you nimrod. This one doesn’t know one spell from the next. And it’s convinced I’m some imposter,” Malfoy sneered, holding the wand by the tip with his thumb and index finger. Harry snatched it out of his hand, and reached in his robes for Malfoy’s wand, handing it over.

“Yours isn’t keen with me either. It can’t stand me any more than you can,” Harry barked back. Malfoy rolled his eyes and sighed, pulling Harry into a dark corner after hearing the chatter of some students.

“I asked Granger what she knew about the potion we did in Snape’s class. She thought you were finally interested in Potions,” Malfoy chuckled. “I think I know a way to fix this, but it’s risky.” Malfoy waited for Harry’s response eagerly.

“Risky, how? If it’s wrong will I be in my body with your hair, and you in your body with my scar?” Harry asked. Malfoy bit his lip and looked down, shuffling his feet.

“Maybe,” he guessed. That was all he said, but Harry didn’t really care. If that were to happen, they would have to go to the hospital wing and get it fixed immediately, which was fine with him.

“Okay, do it,” Harry said, and stood a few steps back, allowing room between them. Malfoy nodded, took out a piece of parchment, read from it, then flicked his wand and read the words. Harry closed his eyes, suddenly feeling faint. His knees nearly gave out beneath him, until he jolted straight up again, filled with energy. It quickly dissipated, and once his eyes opened, his was staring at himself once more. His shoulders slumped.

“It didn’t work,” he groaned. Malfoy’s mouth dropped, looking down at Harry. “What?” And just then was when he realized. Malfoy was in Harry’s body, looking down at him. But Malfoy’s body is taller than Harry’s. And suddenly Harry realized his vision was blurry.

“Oh, no,” Malfoy whined before shoving his face into his hands. He shook off the glasses, and Harry grabbed them. He put them on, and realized what else had happened.

“You switched our height and our vision, but nothing else.”

“Oh, and our voices! I sound like you, and that’s apparently what I sound like,” Malfoy made a face. “I can kind of see why people call me snide, now.” Harry couldn’t help but just nearly laugh at that.

“But now you look ridiculous without my glasses on, and I probably look ridiculous like this,” he said, wiggling the glasses on his, or Malfoy’s, face. “But this really is a problem. People are bound to notice the glasses, maybe not the height change. After all, it’s only a few inches. Maybe try the spell again?”

“Potter, are you actually empty in your head? Who knows what else could go wrong? We have to hide. We cannot be seen like this,” Malfoy said. He pinched the bridge of his nose, looked back down at Harry, and reached for the glasses. “Give me those, you blockhead.” Harry squinted once again.

“How am I supposed to see?” Draco squinted as well once he put the glasses on.

“Figure it out, and I will, too.” Harry really had nothing to say. It seemed to him like Malfoy was seriously stressed out, which kind of made sense. He was also pretty stressed, but very, very tired.

“Malfoy, can’t we figure this out in the morning? It’s late,” Harry tried to reason. Malfoy didn’t reply. Harry, his head dropping with exhaustion, had a sleep-deprived idea. He grabbed the parchment from Malfoy’s hand, and before Malfoy could realize what he was doing, recited the spell on himself and Malfoy. The same feeling from before filled Harry, and when he looked at Malfoy, his mouth dropped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> greenotter's back...  
> tell your friends...


	4. Chapter 4

Harry immediately knew what he’d done was a mistake. He was mortified at the sight of what Malfoy looked like. He truly wished he could go back in time to thirty seconds ago when none of this had happened. He’d much rather be in Malfoy’s normal, weird, body. But now he saw what appeared to be himself, but with pale blond hair and boring grey eyes. Malfoy’s look of responding horror indicated that his pale skin did not match with Harry’s brown, unruly hair, and green eyes.

“You absolute idiot.” That was all Malfoy had to say. He didn’t need to spit or turn his nose up at Harry. He got the point across perfectly well. Harry agreed that he was an absolute idiot at that moment. “Exactly what did you think was going to happen, you buffoon? Did you think it was all going to be resolved after the spell didn’t work the first time? I ought to hex you, or punch you, or...” Malfoy trailed off, and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I didn’t know what was going to happen, Malfoy!” Harry immediately retaliated once his foe stopped mumbling. “I just want to be back in my own body again! I want to stop hanging out with rude Slytherins and sleeping in a cold dungeon and wearing Slytherin colors!”

“And what, did you think I was okay parading around with Granger and the Weasleys? Did you think I enjoyed wearing your stupid clothes?” Malfoy scoffed and began laughing, like this was all a joke. No, actually, he began laughing like he was going insane. Or maybe he was laughing at what he looked like with Harry’s hair. Harry did not find this all very funny. He decided to do the right thing, and march his way to the hospital wing like he should have the second he woke up in the Slytherin dorms. But Malfoy gripped his wrist so tight his fingers began to fall asleep.

“Ouch!” shouted Harry. Malfoy gripped harder and shushed him. Harry listened, once again realizing their surroundings.

“Lucky for you, I actually know more than three spells. And I know how to reverse a simple spell like this,” Malfoy lifted his chin proudly. And then he pulled out his wand and muttered something Harry had never heard before, and his vision went to a dull grey, then a bright green, and then back to normal. “There. Fixed. Like nothing ever happened. Well, after you stupidly bumped into me. Really, do those glasses do nothing? Or are you somehow infatuated by me every time you see me and lose the ability to function like a normal human being?” Malfoy scoffed and bickered and teased until Harry wanted to smack him upside the head. Malfoy kept on bickering and whining until Harry had completely zoned him out, which is when he heard footsteps coming round the corner. Alerted, he shoved his hands over Malfoy’s mouth, to which Malfoy ripped them off and began shouting at Harry. Harry hit him on the shoulder, and shushed him.

“I can hear someone, dimwit!” Harry hissed through his teeth. The footsteps stopped for a moment, then slower, began coming closer. Harry tried to shove Malfoy further into the dark corner so he wouldn’t be seen, and for once, Malfoy didn’t fight, knowing they were right outside the Slytherin dungeons.

“Draco Malfoy, is that you?” a girl’s voice Harry didn’t recognize called out, the echoes bouncing off the walls. He saw Malfoy’s eyes widen and clamp his lips tight.

“Uh, yeah?” Harry answered uncertainly. Malfoy slapped his arm and made a face. “Who’s there?” Harry said, trying his best to act as insolent and prissy as Malfoy does, which made said person roll his eyes. The girl introduced herself as Kami, the second year he sees sometimes.

“Are you with someone? I thought I could hear a voice, are you alright? You know it’s late, Draco.” Harry could hear the voice getting closer and began to panic.

“Nobody. I’m with no one, don’t worry about it. Leave me alone,” Harry tried. But the girl stepped out of the door and into view, where she furrowed her brow and tilted her head at the sight of what appeared to be Draco Malfoy shoving Harry Potter into a corner and covering his mouth. Harry quickly pulled his arms to his side.

“Harry Potter? Wait, what’s going on here?” The girl was stuttering and trying not to laugh at the sight. Harry could sense Malfoy’s panic in the air like radiation. He knew he had to think fast. Harry isn’t the brightest bulb, but he knew one thing Malfoy always did.

“Just making sure the precious Chosen One,” he pretended to mock, “knows how much trouble he’s in for trying to sneak into our common room.” Harry inwardly punched the air in victory at his quick thinking. “And for wandering the castle past lights out. I was going to turn him in, or better yet, punish him myself.” Harry turned to Malfoy and gave him an award-winning Malfoy sneer. Malfoy returned another award-winning Harry Potter glare, but which was probably intended only for Harry.

“Go to the common room. I’m not losing house points because of a curious little girl,” Harry said. So the girl scurried away. There was a moment of silence before Malfoy said,

“You’re an idiot, Potter.” Harry just stared, bewildered.

“I just saved us from getting caught, no need to thank me, Malfoy.” He rolled his eyes and began to turn away, when Malfoy gripped his arm again. “Will you stop doing that?!”

“You made me look like a fool. You made me look like I was obsessed with you! Do you think I just hang around in the castle waiting for you to show up, like some lovesick little Gryffindor girl?” Malfoy was clearly furious, and for what, Harry did not know.

“Malfoy, that’s exactly how you act towards me. You do it nearly every day. Now you know what it seems like to me. I think you are obsessed with me, or obsessed with finding a way to get me in trouble for picking my goddamn nose.” Malfoy just kept on scoffing and turning his nose up at Harry, but they both knew he was right. “Come on, admit it. Admit all you ever do is find some way to make me the bad guy, or make me the stupid one. Admit you spend most of your waking moments thinking up evil plots to get me expelled or lose house points, or something even more serious, like getting killed by Voldemort.”

Malfoy just stared, his mouth agape in disbelief. Harry laughed, knowing he was right. And then he went to turn around, go to sleep, and forget this day ever happened. “You’re wrong, Potter.” But that was all that Harry heard before the door shut behind him and he was back to being all alone in the grungy old dungeons. He absolutely hated this place, and everything it stood for.

Harry sludged his way to Malfoy’s cold, large bed, and looked to where the window right by his bed would be. He imagined seeing the moon and its craters, watching the trees of the forbidden forest rustle, hearing Ron snoring loudly and talking in his sleep. He imagined himself back in his own body, and staying far away from any kind of Slytherin for a long while, until he drifted off to sleep. Like the night before, and every night since Harry was in Malfoy’s body, he dreamt of Malfoy’s home. He dreamt of the dreariness of the manor, the emptiness and void. He made his way to Malfoy’s bedroom, again. He stood next to Malfoy’s bed, which in this dream, was ice cold to the touch.

Harry was startled when he heard Malfoy’s father shouting. Every time he’d dreamt of this place, it was dead quiet. Malfoy wasn’t there, neither were his parents. Nobody was there. Just Harry. He froze, trying to make out the words that were booming from across the manor. He could only make out bits and pieces. Words like ‘disgrace,’ ‘disappointment,’ and other nasty phrases. Opening Malfoy’s bedroom door, Harry peered out down the long, stale hallway. And then he peered down the staircase. And then he peered into the dining room, where the Malfoy family was sat having dinner. Malfoy was sitting with his head down, staring at his food, which was just as grey and lifeless as the rest of Harry’s dream. Malfoy’s father did not look like he did in real life. In this dream, he looked taller, more ferocious, and terrifying. He towered over everything else in the house, every word he spoke shook the furniture. Malfoy’s mother looked so soft and sweet, however. She had the most amount of color in the house, which still wasn’t much. She held her hand on Malfoy’s shoulder, her thumb rubbing circles on his skin, soothing Malfoy. That hand was full of color, and the color seeped into Malfoy, but soon disappearing. Her other hand, however, held onto Lucius’ hand, while he shouted and shrieked. The color was completely gone on that side. Harry watched the scene unfold for a few moments, until everything went silent and froze. Slowly, all three turned to Harry. Lucius had the most terrifying and furious face Harry had ever seen. Narcissa looked sorrowful and pleading at Harry. Malfoy had a blank face.

Harry woke up in a cold sweat. He felt shivers running along his body and heat coursing through his veins. It made him want to curl up into a ball under the covers and tear the blankets off simultaneously. Harry did not sleep another wink that night, and he wondered what Malfoy was dreaming of.


End file.
